


Hands Up!

by kelex



Series: Bean There Done That [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 23:42:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7594906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelex/pseuds/kelex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trauma Surgeon Hannibal Lecter makes a date with Barista Will Graham, except it doesn't quite happen the way Hannibal intends for it to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hands Up!

**Author's Note:**

> Part Two of the Bean There, Done That series.

After two days, the power was restored to downtown Baltimore. The fallen trees had all been cleared away, and the windstorm that had caused the problem in the first place was nothing but a bad memory. 

And for a week now, Hannibal Lecter had been braving the coffee shop's hideous clientele and rude waitresses to spend a few minutes a day with a man who claimed to be dating the world's most annoying redhead. He didn't even stop to think how low that brought him, because he was actually beginning to enjoy the coffee, although a part of him suspected he was actually enjoying the company more than the coffee. Mostly because the coffee never seemed to taste quite as good after he left the shop as it did when he was standing on the other side of the counter, paying for his beverage and toast and earning smiles from Will Graham. 

This Friday was no exception to that rule, although to be frank, Hannibal was dreading the weekend. He was one of the on-call trauma surgeons at the emergency room, and this was his weekend to work a double-shift. It was almost like being back in residency, snatching naps in empty locker rooms, eating vending machine food--or, in his case, cold pick-ups and finger foods that he'd fixed last night and would keep in his locker--and dealing with the craziest of the crazies on Friday and Saturday nights. 

He had a feeling that his all-too-infrequent breaks would have him walking the blocks from the hospital to Bean There just to get a high-octane coffee fix, because what was served at the hospital had to be made with someone's athletic supporter as the filter. Because he couldn't imagine any other way for it to be that disgusting. 

"Jesus, Graham, you making that coffee strong enough?" The male voice of a colleague drifted out as Hannibal came in. "Yesterday it almost crawled out of the pot and shook my hand!"

"You're the only one complaining, Zeller." A laugh that Hannibal easily recognized. "The customers aren't complaining--Hey! Hannibal! You're not complaining about the strength of the coffee, are you?"

That easily earned a small smile. "Of course not; quite the contrary. I was hoping for it to be a bit stronger, actually." 

Zeller's eyes widened a bit. "What, do you drink road tar?"

"No, just black coffee, which I prefer strong," is all Hannibal said.

"Told you," Will turned to watch the urn percolate through it's last set of gurgling and brewing, and then drew out half a cup and tossed it away. "First cup cleans the filters out, and it's disgusting. Only the best for Bean There customers." He took a clean cup down, and filled it to the brim because he knew Hannibal liked it black. Didn't have to leave room for creams or sugars. "Go make yourself useful and make some fresh toast."

"There's a dozen slices under the glass," Zeller pointed out.

Will sighed. "Never mind. Hannibal doesn't like cinnamon."

Not precisely true; Hannibal quite enjoyed freshly grated or ground cinnamon, especially on the foaming head of a hot milk latte. However, the plastic shaker with _cinnamon_ written on it did not inspire confidence. The familiar **chunk chunk** of two slices of bread being lobbed into a toaster reached him, and Hannibal leaned on the counter as he watched Will go under the counter and pull out six pats of butter. He always gave Hannibal six, although he only ended up using four. Perhaps it was wasteful, but he enjoyed knowing that Will cared about his buttered toast. 

A small voice in the back of his head kept trying to whisper _pathetic_ at him, but he simply refused to listen. 

**Sproing, sproing**

Two pieces of lightly golden toast popped out of the toaster and Zeller moved to another register to ring up the next customer in line. "Here you go, Hannibal." Will passed over the toast in a styrofoam box, and as always, lifted the lid to show the six butter pats. 

Hannibal handed over a ten, and nodded at Will. "Thank you, Will. I'm on call this weekend, and as such, I will probably be frequenting your coffee urn."

Will tilted his head. "If you want, I can bring a couple of cups by. I get off for lunch around noon, and then I'll go home around five. I don't know how busy you'll be, but I can still bring it by and if nothing else, leave it at the desk for you."

As always, Hannibal declined the change Will offered him, but the offer caught him short. "I would appreciate that, very much." Taking a napkin from the dispenser by the register, Hannibal quickly wrote his number down. "This is my mobile, and you should be able to reach me fairly quickly. I've packed a cold lunch, if you'd care to share." 

Will took the change and the napkin, and folded both together before putting it safely in his pocket. He ignored Zeller's _I saw that, Graham!_ "I'd like that, thanks." 

Hannibal didn't ignore it, he just picked up one of Bean There's business cards, and stuck it in his pocket. He'd have plenty of time to write the man's name down for later, and there was plenty of room in his Rolodex. "Lunchtime, then. I look forward to seeing you."

Zeller waited until Hannibal was out the door. "Yo, Graham, what you gonna do about Freddie?"

Will gave that a few moments of consideration. "Not a damn thing. She's probably already sizing up the next arm candy anyway." Which was probably true; he and Freddie had only been together long enough to make people interested in her and what she was doing, and now that it was accomplished? She was ready to move on. Besides, he had a feeling that Brian was more her type anyway, outgoing and the kind who enjoyed dancing and drinking.

Will's idea of a fun date night included staying at home, pay per view, and family-sized frozen lasagna with salad and garlic bread. Beer, or hard liquor, not wine, and reading books were his main bed-related pursuits, and he had a feeling that was not Freddie's cup of tea. 

"You mind if I hit that?" Brian asked. That was honoring the Guy Code, as far as he saw it, and he'd actually abide by whatever Will answered. 

"Go right ahead, man." Will wished them both the best, he really did. 

\-----

Twelve forty-five rolled around before Hannibal had had a chance to stop and look at his phone. He'd rather expected Will to call almost an hour ago, but was glad he hadn't. Hannibal had been caught up in an automobile accident with surgery to set some broken bones and screw the pieces back together, and he'd only now gotten out of the operating room. 

He was preparing to head out of the locker room with his phone when the siren went off in the ER. "Incoming ambulances, 911 dispatched lifesaving crews," came the announcement over the PA, and then Hannibal's pager went off, beeping loudly. 

Cursing under his breath, he put his phone back in his locker, and headed back out to the bustle of the nurse's desk. 

"EMS reports three gunshot wounds, two stab wounds, four individuals." Hannibal did some quick math and realized someone had to be both shot and stabbed. "Police are following the EMS, one officer inbound with the patients taking evidence from clothing," reported the intake nurse. "Three male, one female, female in cardiac distress." 

"Page Dr. Gideon for the cardiac, get the others in triage." he gave more orders for rooms to be prepped, and he started paging Dr. Gideon's cardiac OR team to be on standby.

The ambulances reached the bays a few minutes later, and Hannibal was waiting at the door with Abel Gideon. "Cardiac!" shouted the EMTs, and Gideon went right to work evaluating the woman's situation and finding out about her injuries. 

He tuned Gideon's voice out, and turned to the other three patients being brought in. They were all being wheeled in on stretchers, all of them male, all of them young. He glimpsed a green apron through the tangle of people, but it didn't register what the apron was until one of the techs stepped back to re-hang an IV. 

It was Zeller, in a green Bean There Done That apron, bleeding from a gunshot wound to the shoulder. It was no doubt painful, as the man's groaning told, but he would not die from it. He stepped aside to let him get wheeled into the triage area, and checked the other two stretchers.

One was another younger man, obviously a customer from the lack of green apron, and it made Hannibal both hope for and dread the next stretcher. He hoped for another civilian; he dreaded that he would see another green apron. 

His worst fears were realized when the last stretcher came in, and he saw another green Bean There apron. Will Graham was the one who'd been stabbed first and then shot, though the fact that he was still conscious seemed to be a good thing. 

"Put Zeller in four, and Graham in three," he instructed. "The other one in five. Check with Dr. Gideon and see if he's going to need the OR, and if he is, prep another one." He lifted Will's shoulder with the EMT's help. "The bullet's still in there and we will need to get it out."

"Other guys are through and through; this guy's the only one who didn't get lucky. Police want to make sure you save the slug for ballistics, bag--"

"I know the procedures," Hannibal snapped. "Pressure dressings on both of them, and get them into x-ray stat, I want to make sure nothing was damaged on the way out," he said to the nurses over his shoulder. 

Will's hand grabbed out blindly, and ended up on Hannibal's wrist. "Help my friends, doc," he said, without really seeing who he was talking to. "Make sure they're okay. Please."

"Don't worry, Will. We're going to take very good care of both you and your friends. I need you to be still, and to stay calm if you can." The EMTs helped lift Will from their stretcher onto a hospital gurney. Another nurse was waiting to take their places as soon as he left, and Hannibal looked right at her. "Type and crossmatch all three in case they need blood--and they're going to. Get their volume back up with Ringer's Lactate, but as soon as possible, get them on blood. Packed red. Check drug allergies with the patients or the records, but get them morphine and start them on Flagyl right away. Nobody is going to be septic if I have anything to say about it." 

The nurses were flying around the cubicles, hurrying to get Hannibal's orders underway, because Dr. Lecter was not the doctor you wanted pissed off at you.

Will's grip on Hannibal's wrist had not lessened, and he put his hand over Will's taut fingers. "Don't worry, Will. I'm going to make sure you're taken care of."

\-----

The next time Will was aware of anything, it was pain. He was hurting from the sternum down, and across his belly. The morphine was keeping him nice and foggy, and he really didn't care about hurting because the pain was so far away. He surfaced, groggy and half-awake, looking around. He was surprised to see himself in a strange room until his brain caught up. _Oh yeah. Robbery. Injured. Hospital._

"You're with us again, I see. Welcome back, Will." Hannibal Lecter was leaning over Will's bed, checking his vital signs and looking into his eyes with a penlight. 

Will tried to lift his hand to knock the light away, because it was giving him a headache. Except at some point, his hand had turned into lead and was too heavy to lift. "Bright," he croaked out, tongue feeling like it was covered in shag carpeting. 

Hannibal tucked the light into his coat pocket and held up a cup with a straw. "Here, have a small sip."

The water was cold as it hit his tongue, and his instinct was to suck down huge mouthfuls of it, but Hannibal pulled the straw away. Good thing, too, because once the cold water hit his stomach, Will was hit with a rolling wave of nausea.

The back of Hannibal's hand pressed against Will's flushed face, then referred to the chart on the edge of the bed. "You're not running a fever that is registering, but just for the safety, I'm going to keep you on the antibiotics for awhile longer. It will continue to upset your stomach, but we can give you something for that." 

Will shook his head no, leaning instead against the cool hand pressed against his forehead. "Thank you for the water," he finally got out. That was pretty much the extent of his ability to think right now. Except for, "Hannibal?"

The croak of his name made the doctor smile as he leaned back over, putting his face in front of Will's eyes. "Yes, you were brought to my hospital today."

"I missed our date." 

Hannibal started laughing when he saw Will trying to smile. "Yes, you did. But I think you've got a great excuse. However, I must insist you come to my home, because I think you took meeting me at work the wrong way."

Will's smile came through at that, and he'd be laughing if he felt better. "What, you didn't want me on my back?"

Hannibal forced himself not to react to that, because Will was thoroughly doped to the gills and probably had no idea what was coming out of his mouth. "We'll discuss the details when you're feeling better," he answered diplomatically. 

"Okay." Will's eyes drifted closed. "I think I'm going to puke when I wake back up." 

"I'll notify the nurse." Hannibal waited by Will's bedside as he drifted back to sleep, and made a couple of notations on the chart before walking out and heading back to the ER.


End file.
